


Angels in Motion

by ConsSunshine58



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, Roadtrip, adorable idiots, truck stops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 10:08:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3170897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConsSunshine58/pseuds/ConsSunshine58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short drabble about Dean and Cas on a road trip.  Castiel finds something interesting in the truck stop and Dean can't help being adorably in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angels in Motion

**Author's Note:**

> Please consider this as an apology for being too busy to work on my other stories at the moment...

Cas and Dean are at a truck stop filling up the Impala. The two are on their way across the country to check out a ghost sighting in upstate New York. As usual on these brief visits, Cas leaves Dean to the car-tending and roams over to the little shop across from the gap pumps. The angel browses the gaudy display of kitsch items that Dean hates but he loves. Castiel enjoys squinting at each item, trying to understand its purpose when really most are absolutely useless, just cheap stuff for tourists to spend money on. 

As Dean is busy cleaning from the windows the swath of Midwest bugs that are plastered all over them, Cas comes back from the convenience shop and meekly asks him for some money. Figuring the angel wants a snack, Dean digs a five out of his wallet and hands it over, telling Cas to grab him a Snickers on his way. They haven’t eaten since they crossed the border into Kansas that morning, but he wants to get in a few more miles before they stop for another meal.

Dean had forgotten about Cas’ shopping errand until the angel slides back into the passenger seat and hands Dean his candy bar. “What’d ya get, Cas?” the man asks idly. He leans forward to tune the radio to 101.1 The Fox (a local classic rock station) before they hit the road again. 

Cas answers by shoving a plastic package under Dean’s nose. The man sits back so he can see the item properly. Inside the package is the white figure of an angel bust mounted on a round blue base. The angel is male with a large gold halo, his hands closed together in prayer. He has white wings that, as Dean watches, begin to flap gently on their own. Dean has seen stuff like this before: those silly solar-powered “plants” mounted on people’s car dashboards that move cheerily as they drive. He’d never seen an angel one before, but leave it to Cas to locate one in a greasy truck stop outside Topeka.

“It reminds me of home,” Castiel explains without Dean’s prompting. It’s been a while since Heaven closed its doors and Cas lost most of his angel powers. Dean feels sorry for the guy. That’s why, instead of snorting at the ridiculous souvenir, he takes it from the angel and reaches into his jeans for his jackknife. He slits open the side of the package and carefully extricates the toy so Cas doesn’t risk cutting himself on the sharp plastic. He hands it to Cas, who takes it with an eager smile and holds it up to the sun, watching the wings keep up their steady, perpetual motion.

Dean watches for a minute too, before he starts the engine, puts the Impala in gear, and guides her back out into the traffic towards the Interstate. After another few moments of staring at the tiny angel, Cas seems to tire of holding it and furtively looks for somewhere to set his souvenir so he can still watch it as they drive. He sets it momentarily on the passenger door handle, but as Dean slows behind a line of cars, it goes sliding off. Cas only just catches it before it hits the floor. He next tries to put it on the center console, but with the same result.

Finally, Dean sighs heavily and steps on the break a little too quickly as they stop for a red light. He plucks the stupid toy from the angel’s hands. Before Castiel can protest, Dean rips the sticky paper from the base of the angel and jams it onto the middle of the Impala’s dash. There it sits, happily flapping its wings in the sunlight that shines through the windshield.

“Dean,” Castiel says. He pulls his gaze from the angel to look at his friend; his voice is full of wonder. He knows how much the man reveres his vehicle, so much that he won’t even let the angel eat in the car. And now he’s defiled it with a non-removable piece of junk that Castiel is certain Dean dislikes.

“Shut up about it, Cas,” the man says and keeps his eyes trained on the road. Castiel doesn’t see it, but Dean’s freckled cheeks turn red as they roll up the ramp to the highway.


End file.
